


A Love Without Hiding

by Blue_Night



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Euro 2016, Football, France (Country), Love, M/M, Miracles, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7377604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The German National Team has to play against Italy in the quarter final, and Erik and Marco are in the stadium in Bordeaux to cheer them up again. Will Germany finally win against Italy in a tournament? And will Erik and Marco be able to keep up their masks?</p><p>Sequel to 'Love in Disguise'</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Love Without Hiding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoForGoals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoForGoals/gifts).



> My dear GoForGoals, you asked for a sequel to 'Love in Disguise', so here it is. I'm still not sure how I survived last night, and I am totally honest, I still don't want Germany to win another title without Marco. But, I so wanted our boys to lift the curse and finally win against the Squadra Azzurra, so I was so happy after more than two almost unbearable hours. :-))
> 
> My dear readers, I really don't know if this is any good, I'm not really happy with this re-telling of the last night told from Erik's possible POV, but I decided to post it and leave it up to you if it is acceptable or not. I'm not sure whether I will write a third (and maybe fourth) part, that will depend on the reactions to this part, I guess. I yet made a short series out of it, please let me know what you think!

This time, it is Marco who has seen to getting cards for Bordeaux in the last minute, with a little help from his best friend Marcel who seems to be capable of letting miracles happen in a way one can only marvel about.

Marco has re-dyed his hair black again for this important day, and Erik is glad that his boyfriend doesn't even flinch by the uncommon sight any longer because he has still a bad conscience that he has made Marco do this. There was no hotel-room available, but Marcel has managed to get them a booking on a campsite nearby and where they arrive a couple of hours before the match of the matches will start.

Germany against Italy.

The classic as such, and also the most feared constellation because the Mannschaft seems to be incapable of winning against the Squadra Azzurra in a tournament.

Erik had told Marco that he would be perfectly fine with staying at home, but the now black-haired Dortmunder could probably see how much his boyfriend longed to be among the masses in the stadium again to support their friends in this so important game, and he had reassured him that he longs to do that just as much as Erik does.

Getting their tent ready was a little bit tricky, but they finally succeeded after several tries and a lot of laughter and cursing and now, they are sitting on their seats and wait eagerly for the referee's whistle, dressed and disguised the same way they have been the last time. No one has recognized them so far, and the former brunet and now blond looks curiously around when he notices the bunch of young men pushing themselves through the crowd to take their places right next to them.

Erik suppresses a surprised gasp when he recognizes one of them within an instant, and the young man grins from ear to ear when he sees Marco and him. “Ah, the two biggest fans are already there to cheer our boys up, I should have known it! I should have thought of bringing some ear plugs with me to protect my ears from all your shouting!” Stefan jokes when he slumps down on the seat right next to Erik. “Marcel and …? I don't think that you told me your name last week, big fan!”

Erik is grateful for the shrill colors on his face hiding his blushing. “M-Matze,” he hears himself stammering, doing the same as Marco has done and using the first name coming into his mind, which is the name of his best friend within the team.

Marco sitting at his other side stifles a gleeful snicker, obviously pleased that this time, his boyfriend is the one being in dire straits when it comes to not blow their cover. Stefan “hm-hms” at that, regarding both of them with slightly narrowed eyes for one moment before he grins at them with a wink. “I see. _Marcel_ and _Matze_ ,” he deadpans, emphasizing both names ever so slightly. “I'm pleased to meet you again. Let's cheer our team up together so they will win against Italy this time, okay?”

Erik and Marco nod at that, mumbling some kind of agreement, and the national hymns save them from having to do more explaining. Erik has the suspicion that Stefan knows more than he admits, but the whistle starting the game distracts him from his worries, and after a couple of minutes, Marco and he himself are shouting their throats sore to support their teammates running up and down the pitch together with Stefan and his friends.

It still hurts that they can't be with them, but Erik's only wish is that Germany will overcome its trauma and finally win against Italy in a competition match, and if him screaming and shouting together with the other fans will help their team doing that, then he will scream and shout until his voice will stop working.

 

***

 

The match is characterized by tactics and not as thrilling as it actually should be, but Erik finds himself biting his lips and hiding his face on Marco's shoulder more oftentimes than he can count, craving to be on the pitch and help Jerome, Mats and Benni defending. The Italian players mostly try to come from the right side where Joshua has some problems, but Erik can't really blame him. He is young, has made only a few games for the Mannschaft so far, and considering all of that, he's doing a good job. The Azzurri have more chances at the beginning, and this changes only slowly until Basti suddenly scores somewhat out of the blue. The goal doesn't count, but at least, they have proved that Italy can be defeated in front of their net.

The first halftime ends without one of the teams scoring again, and Erik is about to wipe the sweat from his forehead when Marco's hand comes up and wraps himself around his wrist to keep him from doing so. “Let me do this for you, _Matze_ ,” he says with a wink and a smile. “We don't want to ruin your flag, do we?” He takes a paper tissue and gently dabs over Erik's face to dry it, not caring that his gesture is too tender to be considered as the gesture of a close friend only. Erik can feel Stefan's musing eyes upon them, but if Marco is fine with showing his affection in public, then Erik is fine with that, too.

“Have you planned coming here for a long time?” the other German fan wants to know, and Erik and Marco both shake their heads, accepting gratefully the coke he is offering to them. “No, it was spontaneous. And you?”

Stefan purses his lips. “You have been lucky then to get tickets?” he states in a questioning voice. Marco shrugs his shoulder. “Some friends of ours couldn't come here and offered their tickets to us.”

“I see, how practical. I had had to plan coming here for months. I wasn't sure if I would manage, I'm working for the police, you know, as a drafter...” Stefan drawls, and Erik feels himself paling under his colors.

“W-w-what an interesting job,” he stammers, and Stefan tilts his head to the side. “I'm sure that your job is as interesting as mine, Matze,” he assures him with a grin before he becomes serious again. “Don't worry, you two, your secret is safe with me. My friends don't know who you actually are so far, and I won't tell them. It took me a rather long time but I am trained to recognize faces even when they are masked, so it was only a matter of time. I respect that you want to stay unnoticed, so you will be Marcel and Matze for me. It's a good thing that you have come here to support our team, I would have understood it if you hadn't. Where are you staying overnight? In a hotel?”

“No, on a campsite. The hotels are all booked out,” Marco says, emptying his bottle. “And you?”

“On a campsite, too. Maybe, it is the same,” Stefan replies, “let us hope that we will have to celebrate something when this game is over. We could celebrate together if you won't be too busied with other things.” The grin is back in his eyes, but his teasing is friendly and Erik can see that he is not judging them.

Somehow, he is glad that Stefan knows about them, because it means that they don't have to hide themselves and their feelings the entire time, having to be less careful in his presence. Marco squeezes his hand with a smile, obviously thinking the same, and the whistle that ends the halftime break makes all the three of them focus on the match again.

Erik is still torn between his wish that 'his' team will finally overcome its trauma and finally win against Italy and his worries that winning this quarter final will also mean that Germany will win the title – for the second time without Marco. His wonderful boyfriend is hiding his sorrow and grief very well, but Erik is the man loving him with all his heart, and there is no hiding between them. He knows how hard this is for the older one, and if possible, Erik loves him even more for wanting to support their friends in the stadium without bearing a grudge against them.

When Marco feels his eyes upon his face, he turns his head to gaze questioningly at him, and Erik takes his hand and smiles tenderly before both look back down on the turf where the boys are running again, determined to make this night an unforgettable one and prove to every doubter that this time, it will be them leaving this place as the winners.

 

***

 

Mesut saves them from their misery in the 65th minute, scoring after a wonderful assist from Jonas, one of the youngsters. Erik and Marco jump to their feet like each and every other German fan, and the frenetic noise is deafening. Erik and Marco shout without really knowing what they are screaming, embracing each other and bouncing up and down on their feet until the older one pulls a face because of his injury. “Ouch!” he exclaims, and Stefan who has hugged his friends beside them is faster than Erik, gently pressing Marco down on his seat again. “Be careful, Marcel, this bouncing is not good for you!” he says, and Erik sits down beside him and takes Marco's hand again. He can see the pain on his face, but Marco smiles and doesn't complain, only sighs. “I'll better stay seated, I guess,” he admits, and Erik so wants to kiss him to let the sad expression in his eyes fade. “I will stay seated with you,” he promises. “They will hear our shouts anyway.”

It doesn't take long until Mario Gomez almost scores, as well, but right after that, he has to be substituted, and their team doesn't get another chance to decide the match.

The horror comes in the 77th minute when Jerome stretches his arms in the air to not risk a foul in the penalty area and the ball touches his arm.

Handball in the box, penalty shot for Italy.

Erik and Marco sit there, frozen in place, their eyes wide in shock, and none of them move while Bonucci approaches the spot. He steps back and runs forward, hesitating before he shoots, the ball hitting the net in the right corner.

Equalizer, everything is possible again.

Erik hadn't known until then how much he craves for Germany finally, finally lifting the curse until this minute, either with him and Marco or without them, and his throat feels dry and tight. Marco silently wraps his arm around his shoulder and pulls him close, whispering tenderly into his ear: “There is still time left, they need us to believe in them!”

He lifts his head from his shoulder and smiles shakily at him. “You're right, they are our team, our friends, and they will make it this time!”

Unfortunately, their team doesn't get the chance within the regular playtime, and the extra time is hardly to bear. Every time one of the Azzurri gets the ball, Erik and Marco hold their breaths, squeezing their eyes shut, and the final whistle announcing the penalty shots is almost a relief.

Erik has faith in Manu, their goalie is surely one of the best keepers in the world, if not the best, and Manu has proved more than only once that he is capable of saving a penalty. Yes, he hasn't saved the one Bonucci has shot earlier, but this was a different situation, and Erik has faith in the Mannschaft and knows that they have always been good in winning the penalty shots in competitions.

Only that the other goalkeeper, Gian-Luigi Buffon is one of the best goalies, as well, and he has proved that he can save penalties as much as Manu countless times.

Erik clings to Marco's hand for dare life when the first Azzurro steps to the spot.

Insigne: 1:2.

Marco beside him can't keep a groan inside when Toni, who hasn't played that good tonight, is the next and the first German to hopefully score.

Kroos: 2:2.

Erik takes a deep breath, and Marco's sigh sounds like a sob.

Zaza shoots the ball into the nightly air, and Erik and Marco release the tension they have felt with a loud, triumphant shout but, to their utter dismay, Buffon saves Thomas' shot, and they are stunned into shocked silence again.

Barzagli scores 3:2 and Erik squeezes his eyes shut when Mesut only hits the post, thinking that their worst nightmare has come true now.

But, Pellè doesn't make it while Julian does, scoring 3:3, and the young Dortmunder allows the tiniest spark of hope to rise to the surface again.

This time, Manu saves Bonucci's second penalty, but Basti fails, as well, and Erik is sure that he will get a heart attack from all of this. Marco beside him is white like snow, Erik can see that despite the colors smeared all over his face, and his fingers squeezing Erik's that tightly that it really hurts are ice-cold and sweaty.

Giaccherini is the next to prolong their misery, shooting and scoring 3:4, but Mats is great and draws level with him, 4:4.

Parolo 4:5.

Joshua is the next German player, and this time, Erik has to close his eyes. Joshua is the youngest, and he doesn't have enough experience and calm to do this, right? Erik likes his teammate and he does believe in him, but tonight, only a miracle will save them from losing against Italy, again, Erik is sure about that.

Marco's loud, ecstatic scream proves to him that miracles does happen, Kimmi has made it, 5:5.

The suffering goes on and on, De Sciglio scoring 5:6, and Jerome makes up for his handball and drawls level again, 6:6.

The next Azzurro doesn't have the nerves to pull it through, but Erik wants to believe that it is simply because Manu is the best goalie in the entire world, because he actually manages to save the penalty.

Now, it is up to Jonas, one of the newcomers and biggest surprises of the German team. Erik knows that Jonas hasn't shot much penalties beforehand, and definitely not in a tournament, but there are not much players left, and Erik watches him approaching the spot like in slow motion.

Marco still squeezes his hand and his breathing is uneven like Erik's. They cling to each other, both praying silently for another miracle. _'Please, Jonas, please, score!'_ Erik repeats in his mind again and again, but when the Kölner reaches the penalty spot, he can't look at him any longer, and he buries his face on Marco's shoulder. He knows that he damages his mask with that, more than it is already ruined, that is, smearing the colors all over Marco's jersey, but it doesn't matter to him, at all. His wonderful boyfriend doesn't care about it, either, he simply pulls him close and kisses the ridiculous cowboy hat without bothering about others maybe watching them.

Erik wraps his arms around him and presses his lips against the spot where Marco's pulse is racing underneath the fragrant skin, thinking that they could probably kiss each other on their mouths or even make love right there and then without anyone noticing it, because each of the fans in the stadium will either stare down at Jonas or close their eyes, no matter whether they root for Italy or for Germany.

He can feel that Marco is staring down at the turf, and Erik admires his boyfriend for his composure, because he simply can't do it himself, not after the last hours and everything that has happened in this special and miraculous night. The younger one simply holds on to the love of his life instead, knowing that as long as Marco will be by his side, he will be fine, no matter what will happen; and this helps him to regain his own composure and turn his head to look down at the pitch again with one eye.

Jonas has started to move, and his foot touches the ball. Buffon tries to save it, but he doesn't make it and the ball hits the net after rolling through the rather small slit between the ground and the Italian keeper's body.

7:6.

One of the youngsters has kept his nerves and scored.

Germany has won against Italy in a competition.

Finally.

 

***

 

If someone asked him about the last three hours after Jonas had scored, Erik couldn't give them a proper answer. Stefan must have been the one guiding Marco and him out of the stadium, and Erik remembers vaguely their drive to the campsite. They sat on the backseat together with two of Stefan's friends, and Erik was deeply grateful for Stefan volunteering to be the driver of their rented car.

Marco held him tight during the entire drive, and the other guys left them alone until the campsite finally came into sight. Their masks were totally damaged and there was no way that Stefan's friends could have missed who they actually were after losing their cowboy hats even with their dyed hair, but they didn't say anything and even called them by their false names 'Matze' and 'Marcel'.

Marco was the one deciding that he didn't want to hide any longer, removing the last remains of the colors from Erik's face and asking him to do the same before they joined the others again for one last beer and a short, private celebration at their place and where they are now sitting before their huge tent.

Stefan and his friends smile at them, and they only nod when Marco asks them to call them by their real names. They don't kiss or hug, only sit close to each other, but Erik is fine with that, knowing that their love is strong enough and didn't need constant proof by kisses or touches.

They talk about the match and the players, drinking beer and enjoying each other's company until Marco leans heavy against him, and Erik decides that it was about time for bed.

Stefan accompanies them to their tent, and Erik thanks him for the great evening and the drive.

“You're welcome, Erik. At any time again. I have to admit that I was surprised when I realized who you actually are, especially that you decided to cheer our boys up in the stadium among all the other fans. I don't know if I could have done this if I had been in your shoes,”Stefan replies, musingly.

“It was hard. It still is hard, for both of us, but we wanted to do it. Plus, we didn't want to sit in the VIP-lounge, but feel the atmosphere – the real atmosphere.” Erik knows that it isn't really to explain what has made them want to watch the matches even though they crave to be the ones playing the Euro themselves so badly, but Stefan don't ask for further details. He only cocks his head to the side with a smile. “Do you have tickets for Marseille?”

Marco lifts his head from Erik's shoulder where it has rested. “Why are you asking?”

Stefan winks at him. “Because I have two tickets left, Frank and Daniel can't come to Marseille. They have to work the next day and they told me that they would like to offer them to you. Maybe, fate would see to us sitting together in the stadium again, but fate can be very moody, and it would be nice to cheer our boys up together again, wouldn't it?”

Erik feels warmth pooling in his stomach. It feels so good to be accepted they way they are instead of having to hide their true feelings and play a role they don't really fit in the entire time.

“We would love that, Stefan, thank you. Maybe, we can even travel there together? We have to make sure that it won't interfere with Marco's rehab, but I think that we can do that,” he says after a quick sidelong glance at Marco.

“Great, we can talk about the details tomorrow and exchange our phone numbers before we'll leave. You look both pretty tired. Sleep well!” Stefan waves at them before he makes his way back to his own tent, and Erik pulls Marco into their tent. Their mattresses and bedrolls are not as comfortable as a hotel bed would be, but they are both too exhausted to care about that. They simply undress down to their underwear and crawl into their bedrolls, snuggling close together.

Erik strokes Marco's hair and kisses him, tenderly, and when the older one starts to cry, he pulls him close and rocks him, glad and grateful that he is there to be his shoulder to cry on.

“I'm so happy for them – for us – but I wanted to be there so badly!” Marco sobs, and Erik kisses his wet cheeks and whispers, tenderly: “I know, love, believe me, I know it.” He is not talking about himself and his own feelings, only about Marco's and he knows that Marco knows that. “One day, you will be there, Marco, I know that for sure. Miracles does happen, tonight proved that to us,” he says, consoling his grieving beloved one with his words and his love.

Marco slowly calms down, his sobs fading to a silent hiccup. “I believe you, Erik,” he murmurs, his voice still husky from his screams. “And if it won't happen, I will be fine, nonetheless, because I know that I have you and your love.”

“Always, Marco. You will always have my love, no matter what.”

And this might be the most wonderful miracle of all miracles, because it is the miracle of love.


End file.
